


The Hook to my Cook

by youjokebut



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Crackhead Junkrat, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Gen, M/M, first time writing these guys but i've had this idea for a while, from Mako's POV, just a story of how they met, this is a fic for my friend! love her!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 10:46:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15661668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youjokebut/pseuds/youjokebut
Summary: Upon meeting him, it was clear Jaime couldn't survive without Mako. Quickly, Mako is also realizing he can't survive without him.





	The Hook to my Cook

**Author's Note:**

> this is for brynn!!! hope you like it :D

Mako was getting sick of this dirty little crackhead.

They’d been travelling for about a week now. After he saved the little pipsqueak’s ass from those fucks that refused to pick on anybody their own size, he couldn’t get rid of him. Admittedly, he didn’t really try too hard to. It could get lonely in the wasteland, and he did appreciate the company. The more the idiot kept chattering on, the less Mako had to think about the bullshit his mind wandered to. Didn’t mean the guy wasn’t an annoying fuck, though.

Now, Jamison – he refused to call him ‘Junkrat’, as the younger man requested – was speaking in a shrill, squeaky voice. If he wasn’t walking directly next to him, he could’ve sworn the man was being choked out, the way he sounded. He took deep gulps of air in between long, run-on sentences. His fingers twitched, and his eyes were looking around wildly, as if following an invisible deflating balloon flying around directly in front of him.

Mako peered down at him from the corner of his eye. He was grinning, animatedly explaining how he made an atomic bomb with scraps he had found around the yard, killing the Junker Queen while she was giving a speech. Mako huffed a muffled sigh behind his gas mask, rolling his eyes. Jamison didn’t appear to hear him, blabbing about her excruciating “death”. Not only did he know the Queen was still alive, but he had also learned that this was the same asshole who had gotten thrown out of her kingdom months back.

Unfortunate that Mako was grouped up with someone like him.

“Shoulda seen ‘er—oi, mate, y’don’t talk a lot, do ya’?” Jamison interrupted himself with the question. For the first time since he’s known him, the man actually stopped talking and waited for a response. Mako raised an eyebrow, debating whether or not to respond vocally. Eventually, he decided on just shaking his head. Jamison made a noise of consideration and paused briefly. His expression was unreadable.

“No worries! Don’t mean to skite to ya’, mate. But I can blabber on for _days_. One time I talked this dipstick’s ear off in a divvy van, he jus’ let me go! Opened the back right up and sent me home. I was absolutely _gobsmacked_ , mate. Grinning like a shot fox, I was.”

Mako tuned out him then; he didn’t even know what this guy was saying. And he didn’t really care.

As he launched into another tale about his trouble with “a couple Jakes”, Mako looked ahead at the expansive desert before them.

They had a long way to go.

ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ

Unsurprisingly, Jamie couldn’t take care of himself. Didn’t know how to build a fire, didn’t know how to scavenge, didn’t know how to cook anything but burnt toast and lukewarm canned beans. He had a knack for inventing, but he didn’t have much luck finding the items he needed, being as bad at _living_ as he was. Mako wondered if that was why he was so thin and why he still lived on the outskirts of Junkertown for so long. To him, Mako was a miracle worker, and he never let him forget it.

“You’re a miracle worker, Mako!” He squealed while being handed a plate of barbequed sausages and grubs. They were still squirming around on his plate, but he didn’t pay them any mind. Grabbing a couple in his fist and stuffing them into his mouth. “Another ripper of a meal!”

He shoveled the rest of the grubs into his mouth, slurping them up and holding out an “OK” symbol.

He handed the plate gingerly back to him. Mako huffed a laugh. One handed, he unclasped the back of his mask and took it off with a grunt. Jamison, as always, watched him with wonderment in his eyes. It was still very rare for him to see Mako without his mask. As months passed, though, he got tired of eating alone and decided taking off his mas wouldn’t hurt.

Anyway, there was no reason to keep that part of himself hidden away anymore; the only one who would see him like this was missing two of his four limbs. He didn’t feel as weird about it with Jaime. And even when he stared, it wasn’t the same malicious, sickening way that other people stared.

“Just grubs, Jai.” He grunted in response, picking up a sausage and taking a bite out of it. Jaime watched him closely for a reaction. He grinned while chewing as Jaime chuckled hysterically at what had to be pure bliss on his face.

It was rare that they found actual food, or something that was at least _close_ to it. Jaime had selflessly let him have it, claiming that he was a “vejjo”, before walking off to go find any canned beans or vegetables. Mako decided against telling him what grubs were.

“Happy, mate? You’re lookin’ it.” Jaime didn’t even let him finish chewing before he started talking again. He looked ecstatic, shadows from the fire danced under his eyes and cheekbones. He had his eyes trained on him; he had gotten a lot better with eye contact now that they had gotten to know each other better. He looked like one of those Jack-O-Lantern’s from before the war. The one’s he used to make with--

Jamison’s face fell when Mako’s did. For a moment, he wished he kept his mask on.

“What’s eatin’ at ya, cobber? I didn’t say anythin’ fucked up!”

Mako chuckled humorlessly.

“Nah,” He responded.

Jamison looked like he wasn’t entirely convinced, but he didn’t look like he was going to press him any further. Despite what his personality led others to believe, he knew his place. He wasn’t a complete ass. Mako was just going to leave it there but decided against it at the last minute. Jamison has been so open with him, for such a long time. He deserved to know a bit more about him.

“I was thinkin’ about my daughter.”

Jamison, who had busied himself with stroking the fire to produce even more unnecessary flames, froze. Then, in a literal blink of an eye, he broke into a smile so large that Mako believed that he might crack his face in half.

“A daughter? A mini you??? _Mako_ , can I meet ‘er?” Jamie reached across the fire with his metal arm, grabbing onto his forearm and squeezing. Mako looked down, watching the metallic limb creating indents in his skin and didn’t say anything. Jaime remained clueless. “Is that why you left Junkertown? How old is she? What’s ‘er name? Can I meet ‘er? Please? I know I’m a bit o’ a dag, but I’m not that embarrassin’, right? I wanna—”

It was getting unbearable; this one-sided conversation. Mako shut his eyes, opened them again to glare at the flames.

“She’s dead.” He knew he had raised his voice, because Jaime immediately let go of him and cowered away. He even burnt his metallic thumb without a reaction; usually something like that would leave him excited for hours. Mako sighed, leaned back, and set his plate down on the sand by his feet. He didn’t look at Jaime. “Avery. She was nine.”

“Didn’t live in Junkertown. Outskirts, ran a farm. Found ‘er left in a box towards on the side of the high way. She wasn’t even nine months. Raised her myself,” His voice was scratchy from disuse. It was also wavering slightly, but he doubted Jaime noticed. “We were raided a week before her tenth birthday. Everything went up in flames. How I got this—” He gestured vaguely to his face, and the burns that ran down chest. “—killed every last mother fucker that was responsible for it.”

Now, Jaime was moved to silence. Mako had never seen him like this before. He found he didn’t like it.

Finally, he spoke.

“Mako, mate. I’m so—”

“It’s fine, Jai.” He interrupted him. He didn’t want the speech, he had gotten too many times before. He didn’t want to see his friend, usually so animated, looking so forlorn. He didn’t want to be pitied; he just thought Jaime deserved to know. “It was years ago now. Don’t wanna talk about it.”

He still refused to look at the other man, but he felt him shift. Maybe he was nodding, or maybe he was just uncomfortable. Mako didn’t really care either way, picking up his plate and taking another bite of his sausage. Jaime remained unnervingly quiet.

Once he was done eating, Jaime seemed to perk up.

“Oi, lay down with me, big guy! Nothin’ like lookin’ up at the night sky after a delicious meal!”

It didn’t take much convincing for Mako to agree. He was honestly just happy things were seemingly back to normal. He glanced down at his mask, reaching for it, and stopped. He decided against wearing it. Easier to see the stars, anyhow.

As soon as he laid down, Jaime shifted closer until their arms were flush up against each other. Another thing Mako learned travelling with him – the asshole was quite the cuddler.

The two of them laid in silence for a couple of minutes. Jaime was twitching next to him, something he only did when he was excited or nervous. What did he have to be—

“Y’know, I didn’t know my parents.” He finally said. His voice was quiet, tight, and lower than normal. Mako resisted the urge to look down at him, sensing that whatever the other man had to say, was about to take a loud of courage. Jaime breathed a sigh before continuing. “For a years, I had to fend for myself. Whenever I got lonely, I would look up at the sky. It was pitch black back then, ‘cus of all the lights, y’know. But, once the war destroyed, well, everythin’, you could see the stars again. Funny how that is; how we hide natural beauty to reach the peak of what we call ‘progression’, while distancing ourselves from the only thing that keeps us humble.”

Now, Mako stared down at him, slack-jawed.

“Anyway,” He continued, chuckling to himself. “I’m telling ya this because I know that even though Avery is gone, you gave her the best damn years of her life, mate. As somebody who was once in her position, whose only friend growin’ up was an empty, pitch black sky—” He gestured wildly to the stars above them, finally glancing at Mako with a knowing grin on his face. “—no matter what you may think, you did not fail ‘er. Where ever she may be now, if you even believe in that horseshit, I know that she’s happy. And that’s because of you.

“Hell, mate,” His expression softened, smile growing impossibly wider. “You sure make me happy.”

Mako chest heaved as tears welled up in his eyes. He began chuckling, sounding close to hysterical.

Jaime sat up with a start and hovered above him. He started patting at his shoulders, wiping the tears from his eyes frantically and apologizing profusely. Mako’s laughter trailed off into spurts of coughing and whines.

“Fuck!” Jaime squeaked, pressing a shaking hand to his chest worriedly. “Do you need your inhaler, mate? I can go gi--”

“Nah, Jai I’m fine, I—” He coughed again, grabbing the other man’s arm and pulling him into a tight embrace. “Just cm’here.”

He wrapped his arms around him, sobbing into his shoulder. Jaime was still for a couple moments before melting into the embrace, rubbing comforting circles against the back of his neck. He was shuddering against him still, voice wavering and robotic arm letting out steam with every movement.

Mako couldn’t give a shit, though. He really didn’t give a fuck.

ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ

“Now, hows ‘bout you two jokers tell me who y’are,” The cowboy commanded, cocking his gun and pointing it directly at Jai’s forehead. “Before I blow meth head here up into smithereens.”

Said idiot watched in amazement as bits of ash fell from the cigar hanging out the corner of his mouth. Mako would be worried if he didn’t already know that Jaime’s fearlessly got them out of trouble more than it had gotten them into it. Beneath his mask, he smirked as Jaime snatched the cigar right out of his mouth and smashed it into his open, flesh palm. The cowboy blinked at him for a moment, thrown. Then, his trigger finger twitched, so Mako punched him in the face.

He was launched backward, gun knocking out of his hand. Jaime was quick to pick it up; laughing hysterically before squatting down and pressing it against the cowboy’s chest.

“Oof, havin’ a rough go of it, huh, mate? Unfortunate.” He giggled, flicking the other man on the cheek, producing a groan out of him. “I’m Junkrat; charmed I’m sure. And this is my partner in crime, the hook to my cook, Ma—”

“Roadhog.” He finished, stepping on the offender’s stomach.

Jaime looked up at him, stars in his eyes.

The cowboy laughed, then, blood and a couple teeth spewing from his mouth. Mako glanced back down at him, surprised to see the man looked positively _tickled_.

“Name’s McCree,” He said, voice strained and rough. “Y’all ever heard of Overwatch?”


End file.
